CHAPTER THREE
Beth
“Hey, Mumma.” Gretna is feeding Ella when I enter their room. Propped up against the white pillows with Ella nestled into her chest.
“Hello, Aunty Beth. We’re just about done and then you can have a cuddle.” She greets me.
“Great, I really need a cute little squishy baby for cuddles today.”
“You okay?” Her brow creases as her gaze sweeps over me, falling back on my face.
“Yeah, I’m fine, just had a long day.” I can see from the look on her face that she is not convinced and is trying to get a read on me. I offer her a weak smile to reassure her. I was tired, feeling the after-effects of a day that had kicked my arse.
Gretna burps and rewraps Ella back up in her blanket before passing her over to me. Gretna was a natural as if she’d been a mother her whole life and not just the last few precious hours.
“Hello, sweetheart. I’ve been dying to meet you.” I coo as Ella stirs a little before closing her eyes and settles. She is perfection. “Hey, where’s Matt?”
“He’s gone home for some sleep. He stayed here all night with us, bless him, but his eyes are practically hanging out of his head and I had to force him to leave.”
I nod, Matt really was one of the good guys. “Hey, Grets, do you remember Nash Gibson?” I ask.
“Tall, handsome with a set of killer dimples and a pair of eyes you could drown in Nash Gibson? That the one?”
I laugh. “Clearly, you remember him differently than I do.”
“Why do you ask?” She tilts her head slightly, as she asks.
“I ran into him today, in my building at work.”
“He’s back in town? Why?”
“I have no idea.”
“I remember he and David used to spend a fair bit of time together back when they worked together.”
Ella stirs again, so I pace backward and forward rocking her gently in my arms. I soothe her, watch as her little squishy face changes before relaxing again.
“They can’t have been that close, he didn’t know that he had passed away.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, he thought the two of you were still together.”
“Oh how tragic, he didn’t know we had lost David.” Grenta’s voice softens with misplaced empathy for Nash.
“He would’ve known had he’d kept in contact.”
“What is this? What is going on here?” She swirls a hand in my direction, settling with a pointed finger at me.
“What?”
“There seems to be a little hostility here. Even after all these years, you still don’t like him, Beth?”
“I don’t know him, Gretna.” I answer dismissively, trying to ignore the fact that the conversation had prickled the hairs on the back of my neck and caused my heart to accelerate.
After I leave the hospital, I head home with thoughts of Nash swimming in my mind, for the second time today. I hardly knew him, it was true what I’d said to Gretna, so why was he occupying so many of my thoughts. Maybe because the arsehole is rude, too damn rude to hold the elevator door open, that kind of thing tends to leave a lasting impression.
I run the bath and add some bubbles. Chastising myself, I decided not to waste any more time thinking of Nash Gibson. I will, however, light some vanilla scented candles, grab a glass of wine, play a little Alicia Keys and have a nice long hot soak in the bath and forget about him.
I was just beginning to drift off when my phone vibrates against the ceramic edge of the tub, a text message from Gretna.
Gretna: Beth, you really are okay? I haven’t been able to shake a feeling that something is up since you left.
Beth: Grets, I’m fine. Perfectly.
Beth: I promise.
Gretna: Pinky promise? We’re going home tomorrow, will you come for dinner over the weekend?
Beth: Yes! Pinky promise. Lol. Dinner? Count me in. I would love to.
Climbing out of the bath, I drain the water before pulling on my favourite t-shirt and shorts to sleep in when suddenly it dawns on me, the super comfy and well-worn outfit was the very same I’d worn home from Nash’s hotel room that morning. The scent of him has long gone, but the memory of the morning after with Nash remains. I strip quickly tossing the clothes into a pile in the corner before searching out another set of pajamas to sleep in.
Climbing under the doona it doesn’t take long to fall asleep.
Today is a green suede heels kind of day. I pull my hair back in a tight ponytail and apply a nice bright pink lipstick, grabbing my bag from the hall stand, I dash for the bus which was going to take me directly to my salvation of creamy mocha and caramel.
I can feel him standing near me before I even turn to see him.
“Good morning, Bethany.”
Turning to face him, I hope my glare may be enough to convince him to leave me the hell alone. I don’t want another conversation with this man, hell, I didn’t want to share the same room or air with him, unreasonable or not, reason was out the window when it came to Nash Gibson.
Luckily; as if by some miracle or twist of fate, Joe calls my order, opening the gates of heaven leaving me to escape to my own haven, in my wake the scent and gaze of the man that has already plagued me enough in the last twenty-four hours to warrant any further time.
Just as I think I’ve made it outside and to my freedom, I feel a hand on my elbow. That hand belonging to Nash. I jerk it away from his clasp and by doing so, I slosh my cup everywhere, the hot liquid spilling out the ventilation hole and onto my shoes. If I hadn’t been so angry I would have been mourning the liquid marks already soaking into the jade colour.
“Take your god damn hands off me.” I do my best to keep my voice low as to not draw attention to us. My eyes darting around the café to ensure we hadn’t encouraged any on-lookers.
“I uh, just wanted to talk to you before you run off on me.” The confident man I had first met now appeared unsure of himself and flustered. Given any other situation, I may have been able to enjoy his reaction.
“What could we possibly have to talk about other than the bill for the very expensive shoes you’ve just ruined?”
His hand drops and so does his gaze to my feet.
I hear him curse under his breath. “Look, I’m sorry. I wanted to offer you my condolences for David. I didn’t know, I’m sorry.”
“How could you know, Nash? You weren’t even around.” I see him flinch. I turn to leave and see him reach for me again. “Don’t.” I dump my cup in the bin just outside the café and cross the road to the office. Angry tears prickle the back of my eyes as I fight the urge to look back and I just hope Nash isn’t following me.
It takes me to enter the car before I’m brave enough to see where Nash is and to get my breathing under control. I see him entering the building, and to my horror, the older guy standing next to me is holding the door for him.
His eyes trail from me back to the older guy, before simply offering a curt nod. “I’ll get the next one.” I sigh and thank god for small mercies. I can feel his eyes boring into me as the doors close, and I’m almost convinced I see a ghost of a smile on his lips. Jerk.
Thankfully I get through lunch without anyone else trying to maul me and without spilling anything else hot on myself. Overall, interactions with self-centered egotistical arseholes are kept to a record new low.
The illusion of making it through the rest of the day is shattered when I return from lunch to find a parcel sitting on my desk. Opening the card I don’t need a second guess to who it was from, it said I’m Sorry! And that was it. Seeing the handwritten scrawl has me more than tempted to dump the whole parcel in the trashcan but seeing the embossed name of Jimmy Choo on the white box stills my hand above it.
I push the box back from reach and sit back in my chair, staring at the box. I try to distract myself by answering some emails that had arrived over lunch, which only proves unsuccessful. The box sat there, just out of reach, taunting me. Pleading for attention.
Opening the top drawer of the filing cabinet I place the shoe box in there and promptly close it, out of sight and hopefully out of mind.
“Beth! Beth! Can you please come in here a moment?” Startled by the sudden outburst, I jump; Julia my boss preferred to shout than actually use the internal phone system that the firm had only just upgraded at great expense. “Oh there you are darling,” She often referred to everyone as darling, it was so much easier for her than actually having to remember someone’s name. “I need you to run out to the dry cleaner right away, I had completely forgotten to get you to collect the dress earlier.” I hold in the sigh until I’m back at my desk. Julia often forgot things until the last minute. Sadly, collecting her dry cleaning wasn’t even near the top of the list of the most humiliating tasks she’d had me run for her in my time working her desk.
Riding down in the elevator car I look down at my poor shoes, blotting at the coffee had proven futile, the suede fabric had been ruined. My heart hurt a little at the sight of them.
When I get to the cleaners they tell me Julia’s dress is not ready, and when I relay that message to her she isn’t happy, and she promptly sends me out to purchase her new ones for her to try on.
With my arms fully laden with a variety of evening gowns, accessories and shoes I head back to the office, my spirit a little depleted after spending so much time with beautiful and elegant clothes knowing the shopping expedition was for my ungrateful boss.
“Thank you, darling. Now, Beth, do you have plans for this evening?”
Nothing much, catching up on Grey’s Anatomy and a tub of chocolate ice cream and an evening of regret with promises to go to the gym at 5 am. But I’m not about to admit any of that to Julia.
“I, ah.” I hesitated too long before attempting to answer, damn it.
“Oh good, I need you to come with me this evening, I’ll send a car for you at seven. Be ready.”
I had been planning and taking calls for the past month about tonight festivities, I’d planned more parties than I could remember while only being invited to exactly three of them. With trepidation, I retrieve the box I had hidden from myself and head home. Taking the shoes out to wear once, that didn’t mean I’d accepted any type of apology from Nash Gibson. After all, he needn’t even know I’d removed them from the box.
Not till I get home do I allow myself a peek inside the box, I promised myself that I had enough self-control to wait until I at least had some privacy.
I am stunned, literally with my mouth hanging open and silently I thank god I waited for privacy otherwise I may have lost my composure in public and embarrassed myself horribly. The shoes are like little pieces of heaven in a box; emerald green glittery heeled sandaled pieces of heaven to more accurate. Pushing the moral dilemma featuring Nash to the back of my mind, I set about the mission of searching my extensive wardrobe for a dress to do the shoes justice.
The car pulls up outside the hired function centre, the lights from inside create a soft glow out onto the street below through the huge bay windows. Thanking the driver, I climb out before taking a moment to appreciate the sight in front of me. The calm outside was a contrast to the chaos that was already happening inside.
Inside, I’m greeted by the maître’d who is dressed sharply in a black tuxedo, a vivid blue necktie and white gloves.
“Welcome to the Woolford Centre Miss, may I help you?”
“Good evening, sir.” I offer him a warm smile. “I’m here for the Stanford and Miller function.”
“Name, Miss?” His eyes fall to the list of guests in front of him, gloved finger poised ready to search for mine name.
I open my mouth to answer the questions when I am beat to it.
“Bethany Spencer.” I hear my name and I can already picture the lips it has rolled across. I just nod at the maître’d, confirming the admission.
Nash steps up behind me, I can feel his body heat radiating on the exposed skin of my back. “Nash Gibson, also here for the Stanford and Miller function.”
“Very good, sir, if you and your date would like to take the stairs and up to your left.”
I open my mouth to tell him I was not Nash’s date but the words die on my lips when I feel Nash place his hand on the small of my back, gently guiding me in through the doors and up the staircase.
Nash lowers his head, feeling his breath close to my ear. “That is an incredibly deceptive dress you have on, Beth.” His voice drawls as he guides me into the room and past security. “Nice shoes by the way.”
I raise an eyebrow at him, “I beg your pardon?”
“There is no need for you to beg, Beth.”
I scowl at him, I have no interest in engaging in any sort of games with him. If he has no desire to give me a straight answer then I have no desire to stand within ten meters of this infuriating man.
“You look incredibly sensual in that dress, Beth, a direct contradiction from the last night we spent together.”
“Oh, do you mean the night where you referred to me as a prostitute?” I do my best to walk off on him, to search out Julia, but before I can get more than 3 steps away he has me by the wrist and is leading back out into a quiet alcove in the hall.
“I did not compare you to a prostitute, Beth. You were clearly too drunk to be able to recall accurately.”
“I was not drunk!” I protest.
He is leaning so close to me now I can smell his aftershave. My body betrays me when it inhales his scent, holding it in my lungs for longer than any breath should allow.
“Beth, come on. You had to ask me the next morning if we’d had sex. Believe me, sweetheart, if we had there would’ve been no doubt and you wouldn’t have needed to ask.”
I gulp, this man was a heady combination of dangerous predator and sexy, and it was surprisingly turning me on, which made me furious at the same time. I needed to get away before I punched him, or worse, kissed him.
Pushing him back with my forearm I move past him and thankfully he doesn’t try to stop me. I hear his chuckle as I walk away. Arsehole.